And Then There Were Two
by Nym P. Seudo
Summary: In the twilight days of the Cromag War, Fifteen approaches Zero with a troubling revelation.


_**And Then There Were Two**_

by Nym P. Seudo

The bullet exited the scientist's forehead in a confetti spray of blood and gray matter. His body hit the floor like a sack of bricks and lay very still. Red oozed out in an expanding puddle that dripped through the holes in the cheap bamboo slats.

Zero stowed his 9mm, the barrel still vibrating faintly from the discharge. He strode past the fresh corpse without a glance. It was just another of a dozen that he'd made in the span of the afternoon. Shafts of light filtered through the gaps in the sheet metal roof. The building was an oven, and Zero sucked air through his damp face mask. The object of his assignment sat before him, a mess of exposed wires, outdated computer terminals, and an old barber's chair.

All this fuss for a heap of garbage. But who was he to question the higher-ups?

With a few dexterous taps on a grease-stained keyboard, Zero input the kill sequence that intel had provided. Sure enough, it worked, and the machine let out a blaring alarm before shorting out in a miniature fireworks display. The stink of burning electronics filled the room and Zero turned to leave.

But something on the floor caught his eye.

A toy?

He knelt and picked it up, feeling the soft fur against his calloused hand. It was high-quality, industrially stitched, and with a heft to it that suggested some internal battery. It couldn't have been Cromag-made, their toys were usually done by hand, made of dried grass and twigs. Zero drifted into the Chronos haze, providing himself all the time he pleased to ponder.

If he had to guess, the toy looked like something from New Mecca, the sort of cutesy dreck marketed to middle-class kids in the Second District. But what was it doing here in a Cromag research outpost as far from New Mecca as geographically possible? Zero's attention darted to the bunk bed against the far wall, the stack of children's pop-up books, the colorful quilted blanket.

He sighed.

There was a kid in this room.

But he didn't turn. He didn't look. He just pocketed the toy on a whim and walked out the door.

He was too damn tired for this shit. Cleanup wasn't his business. If it needed to be done, then one of the Alphas could handle it.

He emerged from the close heat of the building and into the humid winds of the Cromag coastline. His radio hissed as he reported in. "This is Zero. Target neutralized."

The graveled voice of the op commander came through a second later. "Acknowledged. Zero, Fifteen, return to base. If anyone gets in your way, you know what to do."

Zero stowed the radio with a snort. What was that supposed to mean? This place was a cemetery now. The enemy combatants had been reduced to fertilizer hours ago, and extraction was only a short walk down to the beach.

In a practiced motion, Zero removed his mask, snatched a cigarette from a battered pack, and lit up. One puff was all he needed. He drifted into the Chronos again and stretched the instant of Nicotine into a lifetime; one spent staring unblinkingly into the fixed image of a burning village.

It had been an odd place for military research. No artillery nests. No bunkers. No SAM sites. He supposed the war _was_ nearing its end. Both militaries had run out of resources long ago. New Mecca would be declaring an end to hostilities in a few weeks if the rumors were accurate. Not a victory, but that didn't matter to him. Now, the only thing left was to trim loose ends and cover tracks.

Then it would all be over.

Zero flicked the cigarette aside and started walking. Fifteen was waiting for him, probably with a dozen stupid questions he shouldn't be asking. He was always too curious for his own good.

Zero's boots crunched over the napalm-scarred earth. It had been a field of orchids eight hours ago. He scanned the plumes of angry, black smoke spilling out of the buildings.

Standing amid it all was Fifteen, his long blond ponytail rustling in the breeze. He drank from a canteen and kept his gaze squarely on Zero's approach. Fifteen stowed the canteen, checked his sidearm, and gave Zero a shallow nod.

"Been a while since we shared an op," Fifteen observed.

"It has," Zero said. "How long? Eight months? A year?"

"Four months. You've been hitting the Chronos too hard."

Zero shrugged. "Whatever that means. You ready for extraction? I think we're done here."

Fifteen glanced around. It was silent but for the low crackle of flames and the sigh of the ocean. "I guess we are."

They started walking, toward the beach and the armored motorboat waiting for them. Beyond that was a short ride back to HQ and Zero's dose of Chronos. It had been some time since his last injection, and his spine had started to itch.

"So," Fifteen began, choosing his words as though traversing a minefield. "We need to talk. While it's just you and me."

"Is it about this op?"

"...No."

"Then we don't need to talk."

Zero could feel Fifteen's scowl drilling into the back of his head.

"Listen, Zero," Fifteen rumbled. "A lot has happened in the last four months. While you've been wandering around looking for this outpost, the other Gammas and I—"

"That's not my business," Zero blurted. "I don't need to know."

"This is important!"

"No, it isn't, not for me. You're just like Four. She's always blabbing intel that the rest of us don't need. It's a security risk. When we run into her back at HQ, I bet that's exactly what she'll do. Like she's a kid spreading gossip on the playground."

"She's dead." Fifteen whispered.

Zero planted his feet and skidded to a stop. "What?"

"Four is dead." Fifteen repeated, louder.

Zero wheeled around to face him. "Bullshit. That's impossible."

"I'm not lying."

"She's a _Gamma_. She can't die."

Fifteen grit his teeth. "Well, she did."

"How? When?" Zero's hands clenched into fists beneath his poncho.

"Three weeks ago. She, Thirteen, and I raided a Cromag base a hundred klicks west of here. It seemed like a standard op, but during one of the firefights she just... died."

"Listen to yourself!" Zero snarled. "Gammas don't 'just die'. Had she had her Chronos?"

"Yeah, and that's what I wanted to talk about. I think—"

"Did she _let_ it happen?" Zero's voice boomed in the still air. "Like One?!"

Fifteen shook his head and lowered his eyes. "No. No, I saw her face. That wasn't the look of someone who wanted it."

"Do you think it was Thirteen? Could that _subhuman_ have done something? If I find out, I'll fucking string him up just like those 'art projects' of his!"

"No. It wasn't Thirteen. He—He's gone too."

"Is this some joke? Next you're going to say that Nine and Twelve are worm-food too."

Fifteen didn't look up. His grip trembled on the scabbard of that ridiculous katana if his. Zero wanted to slap it out of his hand.

"So, what then?" Zero asked. "Five flawless years of war, not a single Gamma lost, and at the end suddenly everything goes to shit? Are you _seriously_ telling me that you and I are the only two—"

"Just shut the hell up and listen to me!" The tendons on Fifteen's neck stood out like metal cords. "Something's wrong here. It's not the Cromags. It's not the war. It's HQ and the higher-ups. They started giving out a new kind of Chronos. It's supposed to be refined, supposed to make time even easier to bend. And it worked, at least it seemed to. You should have seen some of the tricks Four pulled off..." Fifteen shook his head. "But at a certain point it just _stopped_. The precognition, the time dilation, everything. And always at the worst moment."

It felt as if a swarm of fire ants were crawling over Zero's brainstem. All this talk of Chronos was making him jumpy. "It was a bad batch, then? No way. That's never happened before!"

"That's because the government never _wanted_ it to happen before."

"What are you saying?"

"That the NULL program's being sabotaged. From the inside."

Zero let a slow breath hiss through his teeth. He resumed walking, and Fifteen trailed over his shoulder. They passed beyond the village and onto a dirty beach that gave way to lapping ocean tides. A speedboat bearing the symbol of the New Mecca navy sat beside the obliterated remains of a wooden pier. It was unmanned but for a lone soldier who stood at the helm. Her brown ponytail and blue bandanna stirred some vague remembrance in Zero. She was one of the Beta Nulls. Not many of those left these days. She saluted and shouted something that only got lost in the sound of the waves.

Zero toyed with the hilt of the combat knife sheathed at his waist. "Fifteen... if that Chronos really is contaminated, then why are _you_ still alive?"

"I haven't been taking it," Fifteen said. He rummaged beneath his poncho and held out a syringe containing a familiar, blue-tinted liquid. Just the sight of it made Zero ache. "I found a supplier that doesn't answer to New Mecca."

Zero's brow furrowed. "You were taking Chronos from someone outside the program? That could get you executed."

Fifteen chuckled mirthlessly. "Aren't you listening? Everyone else already _has_ been executed. Not in a military prison with hearings and paper trails, but in a war zone where the dead are easy to forget."

"I'm losing patience, Fifteen. Enough with the conspiracy theory shit. Why would New Mecca be trying to get rid of us? We're the best soldiers to ever live. We've given everything for them!"

Fifteen nodded, slow and sad. "Exactly. They won't need us soon. What's the point of a killing machine when there's no killing to be done? To top that off, we're a publicity hazard. You've seen the news reports, right?"

"About that civvy massacre? Even dead, Thirteen's a pain in my ass."

"Thirteen wasn't the only there that day, and you know it."

Zero found a rock to sit on. A low tremor had worked its way into his legs, an early symptom of Chronos withdrawal. Fifteen sat beside him and rested the katana at a comfortable angle.

"I'm here with a proposal," Fifteen said. "I've already given it to some of the Alphas and Betas that I think can be trusted. I would have given it to Four, but..." He cleared his throat. "The military, the government, don't want us anymore. We're a liability. It's time we disappeared, went underground. I've made connections. I can help us survive."

Zero hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're making a lot of assumptions."

"They're not assumptions. Trust me, Zero. If you go back to HQ then they're not going to ship you back to New Mecca with a pension and keys to a new house, they're going to put a bullet in your head and dump your body in the ocean." Fifteen stood. "That Beta over there is with me. We can take that boat down the coast to a private airfield. We can be out of this shit-hole of a country in a few hours." He extended a helping hand. "Let's get a move on."

Zero didn't take Fifteen's hand, but he still stood. "You've always been a paranoid brat," Zero began, "but these last five years we've climbed over a mountain of bodies together. That means something. I'm going to do you a favor and pretend I didn't hear any of this. You and I are going to get on that boat, get our Chronos from HQ, and get discharged. This war is over. We're done fighting. You don't need to make up new enemies just to replace the ones you've lost."

Fifteen's mouth diminished to a hard, white line. "I knew you were stubborn, but I didn't think that you were stupid." He took a step back. "This boat isn't going to HQ. I've already told you that. If you don't want to stay alive then that's your choice. Wait here and radio another boat once I'm gone. Tell them I died—hell, tell them the truth if you want. They can't stop me."

"You're right," Zero said. "Nobody can." He let his muscles relax, in that state of tranquil potential that always preceded violence. "Nobody but me." And the combat knife was suddenly in his hand.

Fifteen eyed the gleaming metal without blinking. "It seems I've been reading you wrong all this time. Are you really that afraid to think for yourself?" He took another step back, in the direction of the boat.

"Hardly." Zero's other hand drifted toward the 9mm beneath his poncho. "If I were, then I'd buy into every crazy idea pitched to me by ponytailed, wanna-be samurais."

Fifteen's thumb flicked the guard of his katana, loosening it in the scabbard. "Nobody wins in a Gamma duel. How do you expect this to end, Zero?"

"I expect you to sheathe that rusted antique and follow me back to HQ. I'll hear their side before throwing away everything I've ever worked for."

"That isn't going to happen. Just take a walk. Cool off. By the time you're back we'll be out of your hair forever."

Zero didn't move. Every fiber of his being was trained on Fifteen's hand floating over the katana hilt.

"Fine," Fifteen said. "If blood is what you want, then you'll get it." He slid into a low stance. "But before we do this, answer me one thing. Have you been taking it? The _new_ Chronos?"

Zero disguised the tremble in his body. "And if I have?"

Fifteen hesitated. His fingers twitched away from the hilt. "Then you'll die."

"We'll see."

In the span of a heartbeat, Zero drew his gun and fired at the Beta on the boat. The shot took her right through the eyes. Her body careened over the side and into the crashing waves. The combat knife found Fifteen's chest, almost simultaneously. It twisted like a key in a lock, releasing a gush of blood down Zero's wrist. Fifteen vomited a glob of red, his green eyes wide and pain-struck.

But no. That didn't happen.

The katana was out of its scabbard in a singing flash, and Zero's vision tumbled madly as his head soared through the air.

But no. That didn't happen.

There was a nova of sparks as combat knife and katana clashed. Zero jammed the 9mm under Fifteen's jawbone and pulled the trigger, dyeing blond hair crimson.

But no. That didn't happen.

Fifteen's free hand batted the 9mm aside, and Zero's ears rang with the deafening sound. A swift kick sent Zero staggering, and assault rifle fire from the Beta on the boat pierced through his flak jacket. Zero hit the dirt with a wet splat.

But no. That didn't happen.

Zero feinted for his gun, but instead doubled his grip on the combat knife. As it clashed with the katana, he gave a wrenching twist and sent both weapons sailing toward the sun. Zero struck out with clenched fists, cracking Fifteen's ribs and breaking his jaw. The katana descended in a lazy arc, and Zero caught it out of the air. Even then, he marveled at the ease of it, the perfect balance of the tool. He brought it down in a quick chop that cut Fifteen from collar to groin.

But no. That didn't happen.

As Zero raised the katana overhead for the killing blow, Fifteen's hand darted into his own poncho, emerging with a gun aimed right for Zero's face. There was a sickening pop.

But no. That didn't happen.

And on it went, a dozen—hundred—thousand times, infinite futures glimpsed at but never realized. In those evanescent moments, between existence and oblivion, Zero felt alive. Well, and truly alive. But for all the outcomes he spied, all the victories and defeats, there was no end. Nobody won in a Gamma duel.

Zero lunged with the combat knife, like he'd done so many times before, but Fifteen knew it just as well as he. Almost like a dance, Fifteen dipped around the lethal edge and readied a counter of his own. Zero recognized the futile path. He tugged at the Chronos, already rewinding the moment before the katana even struck. But this time, nothing changed. It was as if the Chronos had just _failed_.

Fifteen's blade continued on its course, right for Zero's neck. And in the hollow pit of his stomach, Zero recognized that there would be no going back. He met Fifteen's eyes, just to look at anything other than his own encroaching death. And he saw something there, something that shouldn't have been.

The katana connected, not in a surgical cut meant to severe a spine, but in the reverberating blow of a cudgel. Fifteen had turned the blade, but even then, the force was enough to bring Zero down. Hard. The side of Zero's head slammed against a rock. There was a splash of stars. A splash of blood. Zero crumpled, just as that old scientist had. His vision swam with shapes and colors, peppered with pools of darkness. He tried to control his limbs, but impulses ran wild through his body. He could not stand.

The Beta leapt off the boat and sprinted to Fifteen's side. Her hands were bone-white on the grips of her assault rifle. "Holy shit, I faded out after a hundred. How far did you go?"

"Further than expected..." Fifteen murmured. "Further than we should have."

"Is he dying?" she asked.

"Hard to say."

"We need to leave. You should finish him off."

Fifteen lowered the katana so that the tip rested against the sand.

Zero twitched and wheezed, trapped in the shadowy border between waking and death. He tried to turn his head, to get a better look, but everything was just draining away. His senses. His memories. His thoughts.

"Killing him would make me the last Gamma," Fifteen observed tonelessly.

The Beta shrugged. "It might be better that way. If he's the only other Gamma, then without him no one can touch you."

The blade dug a listless line.

"Do it!" the Beta said. "It'd be foolish not to!"

Fifteen looked out over the ocean, squinting against the unrelenting sun. With a flourish he sheathed the katana and walked away. "Then call me a fool. Come on. We're leaving."

The Beta faltered. The barrel of her assault rifle twitched in Zero's direction.

"Come on!" Fifteen yelled. "We're leaving!"

To Zero's failing senses, the swish of the Beta's boots over the sand seemed to stretch on endlessly, like an hourglass turning end over end. He closed his eyes and embraced the dark. Wherever it led.

…

…

…

"_I always wondered if Gammas could bleed. Looks so. This one really got fucked up."_

"_Fifteen isn't responding on comms. He's past the rendezvous time. It's safe to assume he's betrayed us."_

"_That was bound to happen, though, yeah? Rats and sinking ships, after all. What do you think we should do with this one? Send him to meet his pals on the other side?"_

"_No, no. That would be a waste. Radio HQ for emergency evac. Tell them to prep a neurosurgeon. We can salvage this. I… have an idea…"_

**End**


End file.
